Painfully True
by Zydrate Anatomy
Summary: Remus should have known he couldn't keep it a secret forever, but friends are hard to let go of, even when they uncover the truth for themselves.
1. Chapter 1

In the flickering light of the fire in Gryffindor common room sat three boys, each barely over thirteen years old. A shaggy, black haired youth lounged in the chair closest to the fire, his hair hanging in lazy tresses about his handsome face. There was something in his smile, or in his grey eyes, that simply oozed elegance, and arrogance.

Another boy was short and plump, with a round face framed by sandy blonde hair. He sat close to the boy with long black hair, as though in hope that some of this glory would reflect onto him. His watery blue eyes stared in wonder at the boy beside him.

The last boy was also black haired. This raven hair would simply not be combed into submission, but even so, it had the look of a carefully maintained mess, as though the boy relished the rebelliousness of his hair. His brown eyes were reminiscent of a deer caught in a pair of headlights- wide and fearful of things to come.

However, the three looked somehow... incomplete, as though a piece were missing from their entourage. The missing piece, the last marauder, was one Remus John Lupin. The boys had been told that he was visiting his mother, who was ill. However, none of them believed this tale anymore, since the shaggy haired boy, Sirius Black, held in his lap a pocket calendar, belonging to the afore mentioned Remus Lupin, which said that the fifth anniversary of his mother's death was a few weeks since. It was this deceit that the group now pondered in the suspicious absence of their friend.

"Maybe _he's_ ill!" Sandy haired Peter Pettigrew looked hopefully for the approval of the other boys. Both gave him looks of distain.

James Potter turned to him, "If it were something that simple, Peter, why didn't he tell us?" His voice was flat, pained by his thoughts.

"And what illness requires him to disappear from school for two nights every month, through the Whomping Willow?" Sirius Black turned his whole body over, and rested his chin on his palms on the arm of the chair. He could easily remember the night in the year before when they had wall watched as Remus walked across the grounds with Madam Pomfrey, towards the infamous willow.

Another long silence ensued. Slowly, James raised his head from its resting place on his knees. "I have an idea," he muttered, in sorrowful tones.

"What?" Sirius sighed, not looking up.

"Well," he began, already regretting his words, "I suppose he could be" he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat, "a werewolf."

Sirius snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You're joking, right?"

"No, it makes sense! Wait a minute," James leapt up and ran up a short flight of stairs at the back of the common room. A moment later, he returned carrying his Astronomy notes.

Peter looked at him curiously. "What's that for? We don't have any home-"

James snatched Sirius' calendar from his lap, and laid both papers out on the table in front of them. He found his notes on the lunar cycle, and his lunar calendar. He pointed at both triumphantly.

"See? Tonight's a full moon! And" He flicked backwards through Sirius' calendar until he found the date he was looking for, and then found the same date in his lunar chart. "it was a full moon last time he was gone as well."

"Coincidence," Sirius dismissed. He would not allow himself to believe that such a kind, quiet and intelligent boy could be a monster- the idea was laughable.

"No!" He checked several more dates, and he found that Remus' 'visits home' all coincided with the full waxing of the moon.

"Then why is he gone for two nights, huh?" Sirius intoned, unimpressed by this theory.

"Well remember that time you heard him talking to Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, when he was supposed to be at home, and when we asked him he just said he'd gotten ill and come home early? So he'd stay there while his wounds are healed, since he would have hurt himself if he couldn't hurt anything else. Werewolf-inflicted wounds are harder to heal, and take longer. Think about the amount of scars he has, Sirius!" James persisted, feeling the theory strengthen in his mind as he defended. It _made sense_.

Peter squirmed between the two. He didn't know what to believe.

Sirius raised an eyebrow contemptuously. "James, listen to yourself! Do you honestly believe that _Remus_, as in _Remus _Remus, turns into a blood-crazed monster, howling at the moon et cetera, once a month? This is stupid, James. Let it go."

"There must be a logical explanation for this," Peter shifted towards Sirius, making allegiance with the stronger party.

James laughed at him, but the laugh was cold. "Now, there's someone who's been spending too much time around Remus. This _is_ a logical explanation."

"As if Dumbledore would let a werewolf into the school, James. It wouldn't be safe." Sirius turned back over again onto his back, tired of the dispute.

James rose from his chair, nearly shaking with rage at Sirius' total rejection of his idea. "Fine! I'll prove it!"

And with this statement, he threw his invisibility cloak, which he had been sitting on, over his shoulders and stormed out of the room.

"No, James, the Willow!" Sirius bounded over the back of his chair, but the portrait hole slammed into his face. "I've got to get there first," he muttered to himself, then ran to the dorms. Within milliseconds, he returned, carrying two brooms. He tossed one to Peter, at the same time mounting his. He flung open the nearest window, and leapt out.

Peter was frozen in awe, but a voice broke through his reverie.

"FOLLOW!"

This time he barely hesitated, and he leapt out of the tower window himself, broom in hand. He mounted as he fell, and pursued the black streak across the deep blue sky that was Sirius on top of the broom that belonged to James Potter.

James thundered down the stairs, taking three or four at a time. When he reached a statue of a wild boar, very out of sync with the rest of the castle's decor, he stopped, and hurriedly tapped his wand on its nose, muttering "_aper non claustras" _over and over. The statue sunk into the ground, revealing a narrow passage. James hurled himself inside, and began to slide at break-neck speed to the ground. Within mere moments he was at the outer wall of the castle, and he stumbled upright. He began a staggering sprint through the darkness, toward the thrashing shape of the Whomping Willow which guarded the passage he had seen Remus disappear into.

Ducking and weaving, he avoided the branches of the tree. He saw a dark hole at the base of the trunk, formed by the roots, and dived into it without hesitation.

Sirius hurtled through the sky, the full circle of the moon the only light in this dark night. As he squinted through the darkness, he saw a dark shape dodge the swaying branches of the tree and disappear at its roots.

"James!"

He dived towards the ground, and darted towards the tree. He tried to get to the hole, but was thrown back. After another failed attempt, he desperately began hurling stones at the tree. Miraculously, the branches stopped their deadly motion, and Sirius followed James into the hole.

James crawled along the dirty tunnel on his hands and knees until the tunnel was wide enough for him to crouch in. He stood up as soon as he could, and began to run.

"James!" Sirius' cry caused him to pause for a moment, and as he turned to answer, an inhuman howl split the air.

An ear-splitting howl reached Sirius' ears, and there was no doubt in his mind. He scrambled down the tunnel, crying out as he went.

"James, James stop! He's not safe! Get away!"

A thundering crash came from the end of the tunnel, the sound of wood breaking under some great weight, and he heard a terrible snarling noise. Remus had entered the tunnel.

James turned back towards the light, realising that he had finally gone too far. But as he glanced behind him, he saw a clawed paw coming around the corner, accompanied by the sound of hot breath and snarling. He froze, a rabbit in headlights, as a scarred muzzle rounded the corner.

"Remus," He gasped, but looked away before he could see anymore. He ran as quickly as he could, feeling the threat of the curse on the breath of the beast.

Then he collided with something very warm, very solid, and very terrified. Sirius grabbed his wrist and together they tried desperately to escape their friend, but Remus was not far behind them, and gaining with every moment, stirred by the smell of human flesh.

They kept on running, sure that the end was nigh, when they heard the howls receding- getting further away. Sirius chanced a backwards glance.

"He's stuck- the tunnel is too narrow this close to the tree!" Sirius and James both felt that they could breathe again, but they carried on regardless, lest Remus dislodged himself and followed.

A few hours passed, and three boys sat around the huge tree in the light of the rising sun, waiting for the moon to set once more. The two black-haired boys were covered in cuts and bruises which they had received as they had tried to get out of the tunnel and past the tree, and they slumped tiredly against each other. The other boy was slightly better for wear, as his ineptitude for flying had caused him to miss the confrontation in the tunnel, and had meant that he had arrived only to be given a brief description of event by the other tired boys. As they had before, in the common room that seemed worlds away, the group waited for their friend to return.

As the last of the moonlight disappeared from the horizon, they saw the figure of the Hogwarts matron coming towards them, carrying blankets and a bottle of potion. Without thinking, James grabbed his invisibility cloak from the ground beside him, and threw it over Sirius, Peter and himself. Once the matron had passed, without a word they followed her back through the tunnel that had almost become their tomb.

Whilst they were walking, Peter held up the hem of the cloak, so that it did not snag on the splintered pieces of door which littered the wide end of the tunnel. Madame Pomfrey gasped as she saw that the door had been clawed away, and the boys had to stop themselves from doing the same. The door had not simply been torn off its hinges or broken down, it had been completely ripped apart in a way which may be expected of a bear or suchlike, but certainly not of the thin, sickly boy who had entered the tunnel only hours before. They did not have time to dwell on this, however, for the matron quickened her pace and proceeded through the doorway, into the room beyond. Though fearful of what they would find, the boys continued to follow, and soon they found themselves in a wrecked bedroom. The curtains hung off the rusting rail in tatters; the wardrobe and dressing table, both barely recognisable, were damaged beyond repair as though with a club, or a wrecking ball; the faded wallpaper was slit and peeling; claw marks gouged deep into the floor.

Sirius couldn't help but feel his breath catch in his throat. Remus had done all this? When he imagined the contained, calm boy _he _knew, this seemed unthinkable. Impossible.

And unshakeably true.

In his fascination with the state of the bedroom, Sirius had completely ignored the most prominent feature: the once-beautiful four-poster bed with moth-eaten hangings and faded sheets upon which lay an unconscious, bleeding, naked boy.

"Remus!"

He heard James gasp, only audible in the close proximity of the cloak, but he himself suppressed any sound, and Peter seemed too shocked to speak, barely grasping the situation and its dreadful implications.

Madame Pomfrey picked her way across the floor, and covered Remus Lupin in a thick blanket.

"Come now, child, drink this." She lifted his head, and his eyelids fluttered open. His irises were not their usual brown-gold hue, but rather a deep and poisonous yellow. She tipped the potion into his mouth, and he let out a small groan as he swallowed with obvious effort.

"Remus, you'll need to walk I'm afraid. I'm not strong enough to carry you any more, and we don't want to irritate these cuts now, do we? Pretty bad one this time, wasn't it? I think it's the stress- I keep telling..." She continued to ramble on as she helped Remus to his feet, his legs shaking like a newborn lamb's. It was her way, and Sirius found it oddly comforting.

Now Remus was upright, the trio could see the full extent of the damage to Remus' body; deep scratches criss-crossed his arms and legs like chicken-wire, and blood oozed from a small welt on his forehead. His sandy brown-blonde hair was matted with sweat and blood, and darkening bruises littered his body. He shook out the blanket with trembling limbs and draped it around his sore shoulders. He tested his feet for a few steps, as though unsure that they would support him, and then he turned to Madame Pomfrey.

"O-okay Poppy, I'm ready." Once more, they couldn't help but be shocked by how thin and rattling Remus' voice was, as though it had been sand papered during the night, and by the double-blow of Remus using the matron's first name.

"Good. Down we go then," Madame Pomfrey gestured to the trio, who stood in front of the door that led down the stairs and into the tunnel beyond. James, Sirius and Peter tried to get out of the way and to scramble down the stairs, but in their haste the invisibility cloak's hem (having been dropped by Peter when they had entered the room to hide their feet) caught on some splintered debris and was pulled off their shoulders, leaving them exposed.

Madame Pomfrey's mouth formed a small 'O' of surprise before she unleashed her personal denizens of hell. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU BOYS DOING HERE?" She screamed, with murder in her eyes. "GET OUT!"

Remus placed now even more trembling hand on her arm and whispered a quiet 'no'. She calmed herself at once. Then he turned to his friends, still quivering and averting his yellow eyes. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment none could speak. How could they explain to him the events of the evening that had led them there? That James had had a good hunch and for once it had been true but no-one had believed him? That Sirius had flown to the tree after James to try to prevent the deaths of two friends? That Peter's poor flying had nearly cost them dearly, and then their near fatal curiosity had led them to Remus? This was hardly enough. It was in fact Peter who was the first to speak, though quiet ad squeakily.

"We- we just wondered why you had lied to us about your mother. She's not sick Remus, she's dead. She's been dead for five years."

Remus looked down at the floor, so that no-one saw the tear in his eye. He had forgotten, but just the mention of her brought back memories: laughter turning to screaming, blood on the floor.

Next, it was James who spoke up. "So I checked the dates, and I came down to the Willow, 'cause I'd seen you go there before, and I got into the tunnel. I wish I had thought first."

"Then I flew after him and followed him in. We heard crashing and snarling and howling and then it- _you_- broke down the door and got stuck in the tunnel. We ran outside and waited 'til dawn, then followed Pomfrey in. I'm sorry." Sirius looked down, feeling more ashamed with every breath.

Remus nodded, but his voiced cracked as he spoke. "So I guess this is the end. D-don't tell anyone. Please."

James was dumbstruck. "What do you mean, 'the end'?"

"Well you won't want to be friends with a- a- _me_." There was no question, simply the statement of fact.

James knotted his eyebrows in a confused frown. "Why not?"

"Well, because it's dangerous, _I'm _dangerous." He looked James straight in the eye for the first time that night; his yellow eyes near luminous in the morning half-light. "I'm not safe to be around."

Looking Remus up and down, he forced a laugh. "I think you're more of a danger to yourself than us," he would have continued, but Madame Pomfrey took that as her cue to resume matronliness.

"Precisely! Now, _Remus_, we should get you back to the castle and get you cleaned up, and _you _boys should go back to bed and pray I don't report your actions to the Headmaster. Shoo!"

"But Re-" James began, but Madame Pomfrey interrupted him.

"No! Remus and I have more pressing issues to attend. Go back to the common room."

Once more, he opened his mouth to protest, but Remus silenced him. "Just go, we can talk later."

AN: This is a story I wrote about two years ago now, but it's still one of my favourite things that I have written. The complete story is in three parts, which I will publish if there is demand to do so or if I simply get bored enough to do it :P If you liked, or hated and wanted to stab me in the eyes, please tell me in a review and you can have a free hug :D


	2. Chapter 2

After three or four hours of lying awake in their beds without a whispered word passing between Sirius, Peter and James, the little tin alarm clock on Peter's bedside table sounded a shrill ring, signalling that it was nine o'clock and that if they weren't up by now they were in trouble. Peter rolled over, and knocked it off the table with a deft sweep of his arm. It rolled under Sirius' bed, but did not stop ringing. Exhaustedly, Sirius tried to reach into the uncharted depths of two years of 'tidying' but simply succeeded in overbalancing and landing on the floor with a _thud_. He groaned, and then he continued his quest to bring a halt to the infernal ringing which so inconsiderately decided to awaken him.

Several minutes later, when the sound had finally been silenced, the boys were back to lying on their beds staring up at the ceiling. With an air of supreme tiredness James half-sat up on his bed (more than a little reluctantly) and turned his puffy eyes to the others.

"You know, we should probably get up." He muttered, sleepily.

Sirius turned his head, with great effort, to look at him with distain. "Why?"

"Want to see Remus," he said, simply. Words were not to be wasted so early in the morning.

Sirius collapsed on his bed, took a deep breath, then by some miracle he managed to leap to his feet. James looked at him in amazement as Sirius began to hurriedly dress himself before he lost his steam and fell in a heap on the floor.

Following Sirius' example, James also tried to leap out of bed. He was the second person that day to become acquainted with the underbelly of Sirius' bed.

"Urgk," James said articulately as he heaved himself up from the floor.

Sirius, now fully dressed with his shirt on back to front, poked the Peter-lump on the bed. It did nothing. He poked it again.

No response.

Contemplatively, Sirius stared at the small mountain of bed clothes blearily. Then, with great precision, he drew his wand and muttered a simple spell ('_agumentia_').

Peter jumped out of bed with such force that it surprised even James, the initial instigator of the up-getting procedure. Sadly, since he had had not time to aim his leap, he landed in a groaning heap on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Sirius nudged him with his foot, "Get up, going to see Remus."

Peter got up with another groan and pulled a robe over his head, on top of his pyjamas (which were a rather unfortunate combination of multicoloured stripes, given to him by some elderly relative as a Christmas present). "I'm done!" He proclaimed, rather more jubilantly that expected at such an hour.

James, also dressed, looked him up and down. "Might want to put some shoes on first, Pete,"

"Shouldn't we, you know, go to lessons?" Peter looked worriedly around at the empty corridor, then to Sirius and James, who looked like zombies. "I mean, we_ do _have Transfiguration first and McGonagall will be really angry..."

Sirius turned to him. He began to raise his eyebrow, but decided that he couldn't be bothered to do so. "We _had _Transfiguration, Pete. We are now late for Herbology as well."

"There's no point going now, we might as well see how Remus is doing." James backed up his best friend, and they continued to march through the empty corridors solemnly. They hardly spoke, as though they were saving their words for when they would be more sorely needed. Peter could not help but be on his guard as he feared they would be caught by a teacher and punished again- it was not be the first time they had missed lessons. Usually, however, they would be slightly more joyful to have skipped an hour or so of lecturing to spend time together as a group, as the Marauders, but today's skiving had a much more sombre mood. Peter couldn't help but marvel at what one little word could do.

It was not long before they arrived at the Hospital Wing. They might have wished for a little more time to collect themselves but Sirius, holding firm the belief that there was indeed no time like the present, roughly flung the door open with one hand and strode inside. Peter followed close behind in his usual fashion, but James was more hesitant. In fact, it was only when Sirius looked back at him and slightly raised his eyebrows that James followed.

Madame Pomfrey, hearing the commotion of the door opening, was on them in a second. "What on earth are you doing here now? You should be in lessons- get out!" She blocked their path and made to usher them out into the empty corridor once again.

Sirius was adamant, though, and refused to move. "No, miss, we want to see Remus, and we won't be leaving until we have." His challenge was carefully phrased and kept as polite as Sirius felt possible under the circumstances, but a challenge nonetheless. It raised Madam Pomfrey's hackles, and her words were biting.

"No, you boys have done enough damage. The poor boy has been through enough without you poking your noses in and making everything worse with your ideas and your names and your prejudices. Go back to your lessons and leave Remus in peace." This apparent disgust that the matron directed towards the boys stung like little else. They were all used to the stereotyping that was thrust upon them everyday- for Sirius, he was a Black, a disillusioned and cruel pure-blood who could see no further than the end of his own nose; for James, he was the attention-seeking trouble-maker, who thought himself to be the world and made difficult the lives of any who refused to see it that way; for Peter, it was the dumb follower, the fat baby who wanted nothing more than reflected glory. They had all been hurt by it, and tried not to perpetuate it, and so to assume that they agreed with the cruel stereotype forced upon one of their closest friends was not only hurtful but also extraordinarily aggravating.

Sirius, as he had on many other occasions, allowed his anger and confusion to get the better of him. "HOW CAN YOU JUDGE US LIKE THIS! WE ARE NOT PATHETIC, JUDGEMENTAL_-" _He most likely would have continued in this fashion for some time, had he not been interrupted by a groan of pain from a cubicle at the far end of the Hospital Wing. It was the only one occupied that day, which was probably a good thing, as the whole ward would have been woken up by Sirius' shouting if it had been full.

"See what you've done, you've woken him up!" She hissed at them, trying to keep her voice down in the hope that he would go back to sleep. Sadly, her attempts were in vain.

"Poppy, is that you? I'd like my potion, please." A croaky voice, near dead from exhaustion, echoed from the end of the ward. It made the tiredness Sirius, Peter and James felt pale in comparison to how their friend sounded, and they began to understand the true seriousness of the situation.

"Of course, dear, I'll be right over," her voice resumed is normal cheery, motherly tone, despite the scathing look she gave to the boys. In a lower voice, she spoke to them. "You might as well come over, then, and get this over with, but if you upset him..." She let the threat hang in the air, and James nodded reassuringly at her, a nod she did not return.

They followed her to the opposite end of the room, where the curtains were drawn around one compartment. Madam Pomfrey picked up a bottle filled with a deceptively tasty-looking pink liquid from the trolley outside, and then drew the curtains aside.

Remus lay on his bed pitifully, his eyes half-open and heavy. He looked, Sirius thought, quite literally like death. His arms were bandaged now, hiding the scars and the bruises, but blood had still managed to seep through the creases. There was large gauze plaster on his forehead which was only slightly covered by his hair (which Sirius noticed with a certain fondness, despite her earlier treatment of them, that Madam Pomfrey had washed), and dark circles beneath his eyes. However, the bruises of the night before seemed to mostly have healed with a supernatural speed, and some of the smaller scratches which Madam Pomfrey had not bandaged were only faint traces now, like lines drawn in the sand.

He looked up, his eyes still more yellow than anything else, and looked horrified to see his friends standing at the foot of his bed, friends he was sure would abandon him. "What are _you_ doing here? I... I don't want any trouble."

A tear welled in James' eye as he watched the fearful expression on his friend-of-two-years' face. He could easily see that he was expected to reject him, as so many others probably had before. He could see the reasoning behind such a decision- after all, hadn't James himself once shivered beneath his bed clothes, plagued by nightmares of snarling, blood-thirsty werewolves, coming for him, always for him? Hadn't he read stories in the Prophet of countless sprees of lycanthrope attacks, some on children, which had resulted in death or even worse- _infection_? Did he want to have a friend for who to kill and to maim beyond repair was second nature? The easy answer was no, to run from his so-called friend screaming, to warn everyone across the school that they were taught in the same room as a monster. That would be all too easy for him to do.

But looking into his friend's eyes, the eyes of a monster, he couldn't do it. He smiled, and leaned over the bed to embrace his friend. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you are Remus, and you are my friend. You are a Marauder. Nothing is ever going to change that."

"Thank you," Remus croaked, a single tear rolling down his cheek. A tear of relief.

AN: Yar. So this is the second chapter, and the shortest of all three. I know not a lot happens, but there will be a good deal more in the next and final instalment I assure you.


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius' heavy footsteps echoed around the boys' shared dormitory as he paced up and down the length of the room, a thousand emotions playing on his mind. When he had awoken, he had been desperate to see Remus (if a little regretful that he had not been able to sleep a while longer beforehand) and to tell his friend how he felt about the condition, and to show that he did not share his family's prejudice, but now that he had seen him languishing in the bed in this Hospital Wing, numbed against the pain of the wounds he had inflicted upon himself, Sirius was beginning to doubt his conviction. Like James, he had been brought up to hate and fear werewolves and others like them, but his teachings had not only taught him to fear but to despise them for their tainted blood and corrupted magic. Worse than all the mudbloods and blood-traitors in the world, he had been told, were the half-breeds, who contaminated the pure wizards, and diluted their magic.

And then there were the true implications of the lycanthropy; not only death and pain, but the constant risk that those who ran with the wolves might one day find themselves joining them. And what was to say that, now his secret was out, Remus wouldn't extend his curse to three more people to protect himself?

_Of course, _Sirius thought to himself darkly, _it was all smiles and praises when Pomfrey kicked us out, but he's lied before, why not again? That's what his kind do, isn't it? They lie, they kill, and they corrupt- what makes Remus any different?_

Sirius shuddered as he remembered seeing the werewolf's scarred snout as it had blundered into the tunnel, a murderous killing machine driven mad by the smell of Sirius' own flesh. _It's not even real to James, he doesn't understand. He's spent his life too wrapped up in his safe little world of muggle horror movies and cheap fantasy books to understand what's really going on here. He didn't even get it when we were running _for our lives_ from what's meant to be our best friend, he didn't get it that the beast _is _Remus, and Remus is the beast in equal measure. They are one and the same- it's in the deoxyribonucleic acid._

"How could I have been so _stupid_?" He kicked the trunk at the foot of Remus' bed, which was still vacant though the day after the full moon was almost over. That was the pattern, though. The young werewolf would make up an excuse a day or two before the full moon of every month and inform the others of his impending absence, then he'd disappear off for two to three days, sometimes four, and come back looking more tired and worn out than ever. If they ever questioned him, he'd simply say that his mother was getting worse and he'd spent the whole time he'd been away caring for her and that that was why he was so exhausted. This story had held true for a while, nearly a year and a half in fact, before the group had started to get seriously suspicious and had started to see a pattern. Naturally, they didn't mention it – they trusted the meek, ill-looking boy who seemingly stood by them in every situation, no matter how dire – they just hoped that if they kept quiet, persevered, and didn't push him, Remus would show them the full picture when he was ready. They would have been happy to continue in this fashion if it weren't for the astronomy homework that Peter had needed help with one night, when they had seen Remus trudging across the grounds, escorted by Madame Pomfrey, towards the Whomping Willow. This alone would have been enough to arouse suspicion, but when they had seen Remus clamber down in between the roots of the infamously hostile tree they knew there was far more to their friend than he was letting on. This feeling was only enhanced by the scars they had seen which marred his body from head to toe, which he uncovered only when he went to and from the shower and when he couldn't avoid it (the two diagonal scars on his face, for instance). Despite all the signs, Sirius had never even though that there could be such a hideous explanation for it all. '_Stupid_' didn't quite cover it.

Sirius slumped on his bed, roughly pushing the red hanging out of the way with his elbow. He was still shivering with rage. He gripped the covers in his clenched fists, which drew long creases like the gouged claw marks of the Shrieking Shack across his bed. He cursed under his breath, not really sure who it was directed at- Remus, werewolves, or himself. A nagging little voice tugged at his thoughts, asking the question he hastened to avoid, though he thought he already knew the answer.

_What are you going to do, then, Sirius?_

Sirius frowned, tightening his grip on the sheets. _I don't know. How the hell should I know?_

Another voice spoke up, slyer and greasier than the last. _ You know what to do, get away from the dog. Expose him. Show everyone what Dumbledore's been hiding._

His frown deepened, the lines marring his otherwise perfect face. It made him appear much older, and more like his father, whose frown lines were a permanent fixture on his hard face. For the rest of his life, Sirius would always think of that face when ever he was in an argument, or being put down, or shouted at, as these were the main interactions he shared with his father. Since he was a little boy, it had always been his father's frowning face which would loom over him whenever he did anything wrong, and his father's sour mouth telling him that he could never be as good as Regulus.

_I'm not like that. I might not want to be friends with him, but I wouldn't damn him like that. I couldn't do that to anyone._

The sly voice seemed to sneer every word in reply. _But you could, Sirius. It wouldn't be hard-it would be fun! It's in your blood._

It was that statement that decided Sirius, that voice. It was so like his father's, like Snape's, like every other prejudiced pure-blood to have told him there was something wrong with him, and it said the same things. He gripped the sheet tighter once more, then released it sharply as he stood.

"No!" He cried out to no one in particular, and to everyone. "I won't be like them!"

"Sirius?" A small voice radiated from the doorway to the dormitory. It was a voice Sirius had been hoping he wouldn't have to hear for at least another day, when he was a little more prepared. But, as Sirius knew by then, fate was not a kind mistress.

Sirius slowly turned around, gazing across the void of the room between him and his friend as if it were the vast gulf of prejudice that separated them. "Remus," Sirius' voice was venomous, betrayed.

Remus walked across the room and leant out of the open window, opposite to Sirius but facing away so that Sirius was not able to see his face. This enraged Sirius all the more, to not be able to see the emotions on Remus' features. Whilst the view of Remus' slightly ruffled blonde-brown hair was not altogether unpleasant, it did not allow Sirius to gauge his friend's reaction, nor to distinguish any truth from lies. _It's a shame,_ Sirius thought bitterly, _because I once thought that you were too noble to lie._

"I'm so sorry Sirius," Remus shifted uncomfortably in the cool breeze that blew through the window, which raised goose-pimples all over his skin. Nonetheless, he would rather face the cold than face Sirius.

"Why didn't you tell us, Remus?"

Remus stared out of the dormitory window of the dormitory of the Griffindor tower, his back turned to Sirius. He couldn't bear to see what those grey eyes would show him; betrayal? Fear? Acceptance? Pity? Revulsion? No, it was better to look away.

"You didn't need to know," he said, simply. Still he did not look around.

"Oh?" Remus could practically see Sirius' dark eyebrows rise in feigned surprise. "You think I 'didn't need to know' that I'd been sharing a room with a monster for the last year and a half? I 'didn't need to know' that my best friend was perfectly capable of killing me, without a second thought? I 'didn't need to know' that one of the only people I truly trusted was lying to me, every moment I let him in on my darkest secrets? Wasn't that necessary, Remus?"

Such harsh words stung Remus with the same ferocity as silver and moonlight, but he tried not to show it. Biting back his emotions, he finally turned to face Sirius. It was his eyes that betrayed him, though, with their yellow sheen of pain.

"Is that what you think of me?" He tried to keep his voice even, but it cracked on the last syllable. Sirius did not so much as bat an eyelid.

Sirius sighed exasperatedly. "What did you expect, Remus? 'Oh, it doesn't matter that you're not human, Remus, or that you're contagious, don't worry! We'll just carry on the same way as before, as though nothing's changed.' Because I'll tell you this for free, Remus- _everything_'s changed." With this sentiment, Sirius kicked his bedside table, hard, and sat down heavily on his bed.

"What do you mean by that? I'm still the same person I was before you knew! It's not me that's different; it's you. And Sirius, it may have escaped your notice, but I _am _still human, three hundred and fifty-two days a year." Remus struggled to defend himself with arguments he himself believe to be weak and baseless, hoping desperately that he could salvage something from the wreckage of his friendship.

"Yes, but those other thirteen days, Remus,"

What was left of Remus' forced anger dissipated as he parked himself on Sirius' bed, on the opposite end. "So this is it? The end of us, of our friendship?" No longer caring, Remus had returned to his original statement, to the first thing he had said when he had realised that he was undone that morning in the Shrieking Shack. Though only a few hours had passed since that moment, it seemed like a lifetime away. "I guess I expected it, though I'd hoped otherwise. You won't tell anyone- will you?"

Sirius stood up again in shock. "The end? No, Remus, I wouldn't abandon you, not over this! It's just – a bit of a shock, that's all."

Remus frowned, unable to believe what he was hearing. "But you said-"

"I know what I said, Remus. I was- _am-_ a little angry that you lied, but I wouldn't abandon you! Don't even think that. I'm not like them, Remus, I'm not like my family." Sirius took a deep breath, assuring himself of that fact as much as Remus. "Everything _has_ changed, Remus, but that just means we'll have to adapt, not leave you."

Remus was stuck for words, his throat dry and his mind blank. He tried a couple of times to form a sentence to express his feelings, but gave up eventually. Instead, he embraced his friend, his shaggy black hair tickling Remus' face as he did, and squeezed him tightly. He ignored the pain which flared in his aching bones and muscles.

Sirius was slightly taken by surprise at the sudden physical contact, which he would normally object to, but did not mind, given the circumstances. He hugged his friend back, breathing in the wood-ish scent of Remus' skin, glad that he had the strength to defy the system. After a moment, though, he had enough, and he roughly pushed Remus away with a playful shove.

"Get off me, you sentimental idiot. You're too sensitive for your own good... Moony!"

AN: The End! I loved writing this story, and it always makes me smile to reread it. Any feedback you have is much appreciated, and shall be rewarded with cyber cookies and the like.

-Jess


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